


The Heat of the Moment

by Cinaed



Category: CSI: Las Vegas
Genre: Coming Out, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-27
Updated: 2007-01-27
Packaged: 2017-10-08 03:37:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/pseuds/Cinaed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is not the way he intended to come out to anyone, especially not Jim Brass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Heat of the Moment

David Hodges knows that he has an active imagination. As a kid, he loved to make up elaborate lies about the day he had at school, throwing in a few truthful parts that his parents would have to pick out during dinner. His parents had known he was lying, of course, but as long as he kept on getting straight A's, they had figured that they could put up with a few eccentricities. 

Yes, he has an active imagination, to the point that David _has_ mused upon the various reactions of his co-workers if he and Greg ever decide to come out at work. Still, the reaction of Jim Brass never crossed his mind, and he can honestly say that he’s never imagined this scenario, in which he’s spending the night at Greg’s when some idiot tries to break in, and one swing of a baseball bat to the moron’s head later two officers and a certain homicide detective stand in Greg’s apartment, eyebrows raised.

He keeps his expression blank and blinks innocently at Brass, all too aware that he is clad only in boxers and one of Greg’s Radiohead shirts. “You know, last time I checked, you were a _homicide_ detective, Brass. And seeing as I didn’t kill the guy -- I doubt he even has a concussion -- I’m wondering why you’re here.” 

Brass shrugs. “Heard the call go out, recognized it as Greg’s place, and came over to see if he was all right.” 

Next to David, Greg smiles and half-laughs, and his eyes are bright with amusement as he says, “Aw, Brass, I didn’t know you cared.” Looking over at the handcuffed man, who’s groaning softly to himself, Greg makes a face. “You may not have killed him, David, but you definitely killed my carpet.” 

David rolls his eyes, thoroughly unsympathetic. “You shouldn’t have a white carpet in the first place.” 

One of the officers clears his throat, and when David glances at him, the man is frowning a little. “We’re going to need your statements.” 

He shrugs, plastering a rueful look on his face. “It was our night off, Greg and I had a movie marathon. I had one too many beers, so Greg let me crash on his couch. At about three o’clock this loser decides to break in, so I grabbed a baseball bat from the closet and smashed him over the head with it. Then I made sure that one, he was out cold and two, he was still breathing, and Greg called 911--” 

The idiot in handcuffs snorts. “The couch. _Right_.” His tone drips with disbelief, and David glares at him. 

“Right,” Brass says briskly, and nods towards Greg. “You agree with Hodges’ version of the events, Greg?” When Greg nods in agreement, Brass turns towards the two officers. “Let’s get this guy out of here then. They can make their official statements when they come in for work tomorrow.” 

“Yes, sir,” one of the officers says, and it isn’t until both of the officers and the handcuffed thief are out the door that Brass really focuses on Greg and David, actually looks them in the eye, but even meeting his gaze, David can’t read the detective’s expression. 

Beside David, Greg’s ears are turning pink. “Brass, we, uh--”

“I’ll have a chat with Peterson and Malozzi.” Brass interrupts the awkward mumbling, and his tone is matter-of-fact, like he’s saying something about the weather. His expression shifts, one corner of his mouth twitching, and David realizes with a start that Brass is _amused_, as he adds, “Make sure they don’t get the…wrong idea about you two.” 

“Uh,” Greg says, blinking owlishly, and David rolls his eyes and offers up a much more coherent, “Thank you.” 

Brass is halfway to the door when he pauses, turns, and raises an eyebrow. The twitch in the corner of his mouth spreads, and he is smiling when he drawls, “Just one question, Greg. _Hodges_?” 

“He has good taste,” David informs him, as haughtily as he can, lifting his chin and smirking smugly. 

That snaps Greg out of his daze, and he laughs, shaking his head. “I’d say more like a temporary loss of sanity that is lasting longer than temporary should,” he corrects David, and laughs louder at David’s look of pseudo-irritation. He smiles, bright and relieved, at Brass, adds a softer, “Thank you.” 

Brass waves a hand. “No need for a thank-you. It’s nobody’s business but your own.” He pauses, makes a thoughtful face. “Really, _no one_’s business but your own. Especially not mine. So let’s never speak of this again.” 

David smirks at that, and then plasters a look of mock-disappointment on his face. “Aw, so we can’t come to you for relationship advice, Brass? But your words of wisdom--” 

“I’m divorced,” Brass reminds him dryly. “I don’t think you want my advice. Now, just remember to make your statements tomorrow. I’m going to go have a word with Malozzi and Peterson.” 

“Have a good night,” Greg calls after him, and then turns, wide-eyed, to David as soon as the front door closes. He’s silent for a long moment, and then finally offers a quiet, “So, uh, in the whole scheme of ‘coming out to people at work’ that was--”

“--Not the way either of us planned it,” David supplies, and Greg nods. He assumes a thoughtful look, taps his chin with a finger, adds thoughtfully, “You know, I never even considered coming out to Brass. Nick, sure. I had plans, too, like waiting until he had a mouthful of a Granny Smith one day and then casually mentioning we were together, just to see if he’d choke. And then Warrick, I always figured--”

“David?” When David stops talking, Greg adds, folding his arms against his chest, a smile tugging at his lips, “Shut up. Now, since you decided to go all heroic on me and take down the robber and get his blood all over my carpet, after I said, ‘Hey, let’s call 911 and stay in the bedroom in case the guy has a gun or something,’ you get to clean up the blood. Now.” 

When the silence stretches, he realizes that Greg really isn't joking about him having to play the maid for the night. David looks down at the carpet and frowns, seeing a lot of bleach and cleaning products in his immediate future. “So this is what they mean when they say that no good deed goes unpunished.”  



End file.
